


Heresy

by CharonDeLaPetiteMort



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Restraints, Violence, saliva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharonDeLaPetiteMort/pseuds/CharonDeLaPetiteMort
Summary: After being accused of witchcraft, you flee your village in the middle of the night, taking respite in an old, abandoned cottage out in the forest. However, you are found by an inquisitor who might not be as pious as his title might imply.





	Heresy

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something a little different here. I wanted to minimize declaring what the reader was thinking, instead focusing on actions and physical feelings.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief as you open the door to the dilapidated cabin, closing it behind you and taking a moment to catch your breath. You'd been making your way deep into the woods for hours, seeking out this long forgotten house that you knew only from the days searching the woods for mushrooms, herbs, and fruit with your parents so many years ago. Your pack felt so heavy in your fatigue, and despite the place being damp and cold and musty, it at least felt safe.

Walking across the dirty floor, you took a seat in a chair, feeling it wobble and give a wet creak underneath you. Putting your pack on the nearby table, you retrieve some water and a loaf of bread, glad for the chance to rest after such a hurried flight. You pull your clothes tightly around you as you quench your thirst and take a small bite of your only food.

After your meager meal, you lay back in the chair to try and enjoy your respite. The last few weeks had been a nightmare between the illness that had beset your village and the panic that had set in among the populace. A panic that quickly turned to accusations, everyone quick to find someone to blame. And the priests were quick to restore order by giving the people their scapegoat, leading to you fleeing in the middle of the night.

With warmth seeping back into your bones, the aches of the night starting to settle in, you try to think of what you will do in the days ahead. Where you will go, where you will find food, what your story is going to be. But you don't have long to think before sleep takes you.

And then you're awakened by the crash of the door, your sudden jerk cracking a leg of the weak chair and sending you toppling to the ground. Blinking as you glance towards the door, you see a tall, burly man outlined in the morning sun, and two things immediately catch your attention: the blade in his hand and the inquisition's cross hanging around his neck.

His deep, rough voice rings out clearly in the silence. "Looks like I've found you, little witch. You've got much to answer for."

In a hasty panic you grab the knife you'd tucked in your apron as you scramble to your feet. Holding the small piece of steel in front of you, you call out "Stay back. I didn't do anything to anybody... and I'm not looking to change that..."

A low chuckle emerges from the man as he continues to block the door. "I don't care what you did or didn't do. All I know is what was asked of me. And you can submit without a fuss, or I can make you." And with a smirk he adds "And it don't matter to me which you choose."

You glance around the cabin, looking for an escape route, but the only way out you can see is through the man before you. Not liking your chances, you try to reason with him. "C'mon, just let me go. I didn't do anything."

Still smirking, he replies "Bishop says you're a witch."

"I ain't no witch!" you interject emphatically.

"Well, that ain't my problem." he replies coldly.

Still pointing your knife at him, you try again. "If you take me back, they'll burn me at the stake! My blood'll be on your hands!"

His shoulders lift slightly in an almost shrug. "I guess I'll just have to learn to live with that."

Realizing there is no reasoning with him, you glance around, trying to come up with a plan. But your attention snaps back to the man as he takes a step towards you, his hands still at his side, but his knife still glinting.

Calmly, almost tiredly, he says "Come now, put the knife down and make this easy on yourself."

You lower your knife down by your side as he slowly approaches, hoping to catch him by surprise. You try to keep still, despite your heart beating harder and racing faster the closer the man gets. Waiting until he is just past arms length, you suddenly lunge at him with the knife. But the man quickly moves to the side and pain washes over you as his fist crashes into your cheek, heat spreading through your jaw in time with your galloping heart. The sudden blow sends you staggering back and you hear a single low chuckle emerge from the man.

He approaches again and you defensively bring your knife up in front of you, watching for an opening to strike or run, trying to stay calm despite the adrenaline rushing through you. You move to lunge again, intending to feint and run, but the man closes the distance quickly and buries his fist in your stomach, forcing the air from your lungs and sending a wave of nausea through you. Still staggered, the man kicks your knee, collapsing your legs out from underneath you. You land on your back with a grunt, your knife skittering across the damp floor.

Your eyes wide, you roll over to reach for the blade, but the man grabs your foot and starts to pull you across the floor. You start flailing and trying to pull yourself away from him, with shouts of "No! Let go!" being forced through gritted teeth. A wild kick manages to land between his thighs and he releases your foot, his face and neck tensing as he sucks air through his bared teeth.

A quick step lets the man land a kick of his own, his leather boot crashing into your jaw, sprawling you on your side, your mouth filling with the taste of thick, hot blood.

"That was a mistake." his voice rings out coldly.

His boot crashes into your ribs this time, rocking your whole body and knocking the air from your lungs, your pained grunt spraying blood across your chest, your chin, and the floor.

"I was gonna have a little quick fun, but now... I'm gonna take my time."

Your head is spinning, your vision is blurry, and you're gasping for breath, but you're trying to right yourself, to get to your feet, when the man grabs a fist full of your hair and begins to drag you across the floor. Pain rips through your still spinning head as he lifts you to your feet by your hair and shoves your face against the damp cabin wall. He then presses his body against yours, his size and mass dwarfing your frame as he pins you to the wall. You try to push back and away, but he releases your hair and grabs your wrists, wrenching them behind you and pinning them against the back of your neck with one hand, again shoving your face back against the wall.

You're still struggling when his free hand reaches between you and the wall, and you begin to fight even harder when you feel him starting to unfasten your clothes. You try your damnedest to get free, to loosen his grip, while shouting at him "Stop! You can't do this! Please, stop!"

"Shut up and keep still." Still resisting your struggling, he adds again "For the last time, shut up and keep still." His warnings go unheeded.

Still pressing your face against the wall, he pulls his body away, before swiftly and sharply bringing his knee up between your thighs, the impact spreading like fire through your pelvis and stomach. And just as sharply as the first, a second strike buries itself between your thighs. Between the burning ache in your stomach and the man using all of his weight to grind your face into the wall, hard enough to make the decaying boards begin to crack and splinter, you find it hard to do more than grunt in pain as he continues to unfasten your clothing.

You suddenly find your hands free, only to be yanked by your hair and thrown to the floor, barely able to keep yourself from landing face first. You're once again pinned down when the man places a knee against the small of your back, his body weight feeling like it's going to snap your spine. He grabs your shirt and apron and snatches them up to pull them off you. Your arms get tangled in the mass of cloth and pulled back painfully as he yanks until the garments pull free, a chill running through you as your bare chest is pressed against the cold, damp floor.

Tossing the wad of clothes aside, the man turns, his knee digging a little harder into your back, as he grabs your legs and easily strips you of your shoes, despite your attempts to kick your legs free. An even deeper chill sets in as he slides your pants down your hips and off your legs, leaving you bare in the morning chill. You try to struggle, to roll or push away, but every movement makes it feel like his knee is going to break your spine in two.

Grabbing your arms again, he pulls them behind your back and tightly cinches your own belt around your wrists. The man then lets out a heavy sigh, as if for a job well done, and turns, straddling your body and sitting on your back, the heat of his thighs in odd contrast with the cold against your abdomen. His hand grips your hair and pulls your head back as he leans over to look you in the eyes, his stare one of smug mockery.

"Was it worth it, little witch? Just remember, I offered the easy way. You brought this upon yourself."

He releases your hair and sits back up, shifting around as you hear the sound of his belt coming loose. "Please, you can't do this!" you shout back, trying to struggle away as he slips off your back and between your legs, your chest painfully grinding against the dirty floor in your efforts to escape. But he pulls you back by your hips and then holds you in place with one hand on the small of your back. You shudder when you hear him spit into his other hand.

"You can't! This is a sin! You'll burn in Hell!" you yell back back in desperation.

He runs his saliva moistened fingers through your lips, causing you to shudder again, as he calmly responds "That's true..." You begin to kick with renewed vigor, but he just grabs your hips and pulls you closer, his body forcing your thighs open. Grabbing your bound wrists with one hand, he holds you close and in place as he rubs his tip between your lips, the heat of him almost burning compared to the chill in the air.

"But I'm probably going to Hell already..." He grunts as he slides himself into you, slowly but surely parting your lips and painfully stretching you with his heat. You start to scream at the sensation, but neither your screaming nor your kicking manage to stop him, or even slow him down. And when he is buried in you as deep as he can go, his hips resting on your thighs, he reaches up with one hand to grab your hair and pull your head back, the other hand circling around your throat, a slowly strengthening grip cutting off your protests.

He leans forward, his hand still constricting you, and places his mouth right next to your ear, grunting softly as he rolls his hips and grinds himself inside of you.

Softly, he tells you "Don't worry, when I get to Hell, I'll find you and we can have more fun like this."

Your throat hurts and starts to spasm, trying to swallow whatever is keeping you from breathing. Little wet sounds escape you as you try to gasp for breath, and the man just watches you struggle to breathe, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision starts to fade, darker and darker.

Finally he releases your throat and you automatically start coughing and gasping for breath, your whole body spasming and clenching, much to your abusers delight. He sits back up and releases your hair, instead grabbing your bound wrists again and pulling you back against him, your upper body lifted slightly into the air and your weight painfully resting in your shoulders. He begins rocking his hips, slowly pulling his length out before slamming it back in, the impact rocking your body, jarring your shoulders, and making your breasts sway against the rough floor.

For a bit you continue to struggle and fight, but it quickly becomes apparent that it is not only useless, but the man seems to enjoy it according to the way your movements make him twitch and throb inside you. And so you just go limp, letting him have his way with you, trying to ignore the burning sensation that comes with each thrust, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a groan of pain or pleasure. At one point his thrusts grow faster, before slowing down again, and then just stopping.

He's clearly not finished though, simply taking his time.

And while resting he lets his free hand roam over you, groping at your ass and breasts, his fingers deeply digging into your soft flesh. Clearly enjoying the feeling, he lets your chest rest against the floor once again so that he can explore your body with both hands, his own body leaning over to eclipse yours, his hips still slowly rolling his hardness around inside of you. Running his hands along your sides, he cups your chest before kneading them roughly, the tough skin of his hands rubbing your nipples, hard from the cold and sensitive from the abuse. 

Pinching your nipples and giving them a sharp twist, he lets out a low grunt. "Mmmm, too bad you're going to the pyre. I could think of much better uses for you."

"I'd rather burn." you manage to say with more than a little disdain.

He lets out a low chuckle before rocking his hips again, this time quicker and harder, the sound of his body slapping against yours echoing through the cabin. His hands run under you and grab your shoulders, holding your body tightly against his as he uses you, as he grunts animalistically in your ear, the weight of him pressing your chest against the floor restricting you to shallow breaths at best. You start to go lightheaded, but you are fighting with everything you have not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

And then he lifts up off of you, letting an arm rest on each side of your head as his thrusts increase in speed and power, mercilessly jack hammering you against the cabin floor, the old floorboards shifting and creaking with the force, his grunts deep and wild, and despite your best efforts you can't help but let out groans and winces at the onslaught. And it isn't long before he buries himself deep and you can feel him throbbing and twitching inside of you, a feeling of heat and fullness spreading in your abdomen, his hips and spasming length slowly grinding inside as if to fill you with as much as it can, as deep as it can.

His throbbing slowing to small aftershocks, the man rests most of his weight atop you, his breathing deep and relaxed. He lays atop you for a bit, letting himself soften inside you, before finally rolling off and taking to his feet. You can feel a warm wetness start to seep down your thighs and front, quickly growing cold. In fact, despite the pain and burning left in the man's assault, feeling your heartbeat in your jaw, your ribs, your throat, and especially between your legs, the one thing you particularly notice is just how cold you are, the cold seeping so deep as if to chill your soul.

You want to cry, you want to shout, you want to fight, you want to run, but all you do is lie there and shiver. Your head is aching and it feels like your eyes are moving so slowly. You just feel so tired and drained. You hear the man walk off and then come back again. He kneels next to you, fiddling with your wrist bindings. You glance over as he walks away to see him tossing a rope over a rafter before tying it to a beam, a makeshift lead to keep you from running. Some strength returning, you sit up and do your best to curl up for warmth, keeping eyes on your captor. You wished you could bring your hands around to cover yourself, or to at least clean the dirt from you, but bound as you are you have no choice but to remain dirty and exposed.

He grabs the remaining chair and places it, and his own pack, a few feet in front of you. Taking a seat, he pulls a pipe from his pack, loads it with tobacco, and lights it with a match, little twirls of blue smoke starting to hang in the air. He takes a few puffs while watching you shiver, that smug grin on his face.

He looks you up and down before adding "It's too bad you're a witch and not just an adulterer or somethin'. I would have bought your life instead of letting you go to the pyre."

You frown and reply "Again.... I'd rather burn..."

He chuckles and takes a long draw on his pipe.

Slowly letting out a long plume of smoke, he smiles wide and says "Maybe I'm feeling generous. I tell you what... if you'll tell me how much you enjoyed that, and how I was the best you've ever had... I'll let you take your things and go right now."

He stands and walks right in front of you, looming over you.

"Well? What do you say to that?"

You look up at him, eyes full of contempt, and spit as hard as you can, pink tinged droplets spreading across his shirt and cross.

He back hands you hard across the jaw, fresh copper taste seeping into your mouth. He than grabs your hair and yanks your head back, hard, forcing you to look up at him, jaw unable to close. He leans in real close and the smell of his sweat and his tobacco fills your nose. He then spits once in your face. And after a moment a second time in your open mouth, the thick taste of his tobacco mixing with the taste of your blood.

Placing his pipe down, he puts a hand tightly over your mouth, his fingers digging into your cheeks and jaw. His other hand goes to your throat, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter, watching your face turn red, and then slowly loosening, your throat swallowing automatically to clear your airway. The faint leftover taste in your mouth sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through your stomach.

"Be careful what games you want to start, little witch. Because you'll lose. Every. Time."

Releasing your head, he gives you one more light, open handed slap, just because he can, before returning to his chair and taking another puff from his pipe.

"Get comfortable. Because I'm not done with you yet."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...


End file.
